


Words with Meaning

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Castiel in the Bunker, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Fighting, First Kiss, Gen, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Rated M for Mature Lyrics, Requited Love, Sam's POV, Some Humor, Song fic, The Night After Sam Leaves for Stanford, different stories, inspired by a book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: "I meant what I said, Dean."“I know you meant what you said, Cas, that’s the whole problem!”Two times Dean speaks his mind.And the one time things go according to plan.





	Words with Meaning

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Supernatural: Beginning's End. It's one part to a series of graphic novels inspired by the show, believe it or not! It was super great. Shed a lot of light on answers we've been missing out on.
> 
> Also inspired by the Chainsmokers' "Bloodstream", the lyrics used throughout, because I love the Chainsmokers.
> 
> And just in case you're new to my works, hi, I'm still not oVER CAS TELLING DEAN HE LOVES HIM, nice to meet you.

Words with Meaning

**THEN**

It's so easy to get swept up in all the bad, especially in their line of work.

That is, if you can even call it that. It's more like an unpaid internship Sam drunkenly remembers signing up for, if you ask him. But there's butterfly that passes him, and a rainbow arching across the sky from the rain the night before. And there's the smell of it, too. It's a little musty and bitter, but that's because his nose hasn't had the luxury of experiencing fresh air - not since Duluth. Not to mention the sounds of something other than another villain monologue and a literal head roll: the rustle of the trees surrounding him, the birds in them, the scuttle of small feet on the ground, trying to echo his own as they head south.

What's that song Dad always used to play? "Heading down south to the land of the pines." If Dad hadn't taught him how to get around the country in his outdated '67 Chevy, he’d be hiking until he found pine trees, as the song goes. California, Utah, Arizona... any place will do other than here.

This is life most days - the trees, the animals, the simplicity of it all - but most people pass it by every day. Sam is convinced that when you can't find the words, nature will speak for you. He's run away enough to know.

_I gave up three times this week_

_Went through those feelings_

_Like I wasn't worth nothing_

An unfamiliar car crawls along the side of the road next to him. A silver Prius, '01 - the latest model. The car is unfamiliar, but the driver isn't.

"Dean, I'm just taking a walk."

"Really?" his brother, Dean, remarks, leaning with one arm on the open window, "With all your bags?"

"It's weight-training," Sam grits through hard pressed teeth. Dean's not the one he's angry with. The guy who sent Dean is the one he's mad at. Dean's just being a good little soldier.

Dean scoffs, "Yeah, right."

"He's evil, Dean."

"He's not evil. The things we hunt, _those_ sons a bitches are evil."

Sam laughs under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," Sam says, hazel eyes wide, "I just can't believe I'm still surprised."

"By what?"

"By how much you sound like him."

There's only the light rumble of the engine hanging between them, then Sam hears Dean grumble "Alright", pump the break, the clutch, the car stopping, then the shake from the force of the slam he gives it.

Sam walks faster.

"Sam, this is ridiculous."

Sam shakes his head. "If this is your way of calling me a chicken, it's not going to work."

"If I wanted to call you a chicken, I wouldn't have missed my opportunity."

Sam swivels around sharply. "What're we doing?"

Dean throws his arms out. He's shorter than Sam, but not by much, and broader than him, too. With their training, Dean could easily take him down. But that doesn't scare Sam.

And a lot of things scare him.

_I thought I-I-I-I-I-I can shake this off_

_No, I-I-I-I-I-I can't be this soft_

"Dean, he's literally driving us apart."

Dean crosses his arms. "I mean, technically, I drove here."

"You _hotwired a car_ , Dean."

Dean's not close enough for Sam to see him sigh, but his shoulders are tense. His shoulders are always tense before he sighs.

"We can't keep living like this. We can't,” Sam snaps. “You and I both know it."

"Dad said—"

"I know what dad said," Sam says, exasperated as the breath the wind takes that blows through the trees. "You might buy into what he feeds us, but I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Don't pull that reverse psychology on me, Dean. You of all people."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam strides closer to Dean until they're at arm’s length. "You really don't get it, do you? You're always the mediator. Always. What you're supposed to be is my brother."

"I am!" Dean shouts, "That's all I am! 'Look after Sam', 'Keep an eye on your brother'. You think you're so smart, but you can't even see that you're his favorite."

Sam laughs dryly, running his hand over his mouth, "Well, he sure has a funny way of showing it, kicking me out and all."

 _"You_ ran away, _you_ chose this," Dean emphasizes. "You want me to pick a side, I'm picking a side."

"Yeah, his," Sam spits, turning around again, "Shocker."

Before Sam can start walking again, Dean's hand's on his shoulder, spinning him around. Sam, going on hunting instincts more than anything, clocks him. Dean moans after bouncing back, then brings his thumb to his left nostril and blows. Blood spews out in a slimy, sticky web.

Then he clocks Sam.

Sam repeats Dean's motion, only he cradles his cheekbone, where a bruise is sure to form. "What the hell was that?!"

"Heh, I was going to ask you the same thing," Dean chuckles with a sniff. "You're losing your touch - you barely nicked me."

Sam can't keep the laugh out of his words as he says, "We're so fucked up. This is so fucked up."

_I'm fucked up, I'm faded_

_I'm so complicated_

_Those things that I said_

_They were so overrated_

"You're telling me, I was just angling for a hug,” Dean scoffs. “And I _was_ going to say, smartass, that I’ll pick your side. Every time.”

Sam's mouth curves into a small smile as he holds his hand out, palm facing Dean. "No chick-flick moments."

Dean's own mouth twitches into a smile just before a cop pulls in front of the Prius.

"Don't worry, Officer!" Dean yells as she steps out of her car. "Everything is a-okay. Just had a little dispute."

"Not a problem. You two can finish your Private Idaho moment," she says, " _after_ you explain the stolen plates on your car."

_But I-I-I-I-I-I, yeah, I meant it_

_Oh yeah, I-I-I-I-I-I, really fucking meant it_

***

**NOW**

"I meant what I said, Dean."

“I know you meant what you said, Cas, that’s the whole problem!”

He’s on his way to inform his brother about another case when Sam hears Dean arguing with Cas. Sam, gangly as he is but master at going Danny Phantom thanks to his fast-track course in stealth at Hunter Hogwarts, manages to press himself against the wall.

He peeks around the corner of the open door. Any other day of the week, it would be a comedic sight, being that it looks like something out of a Guide to Separation brochure: Cas with his arms out on one side of Dean’s bed, imploring. Dean with his own folded over his chest on the other side, pensive. But Sam knows after the last hunt involving a certain Prince of Hell, it’s anything but funny.

Cas said it. He _finally_ said it.

And Dean said… Dean _is_ saying, everything he didn’t get to.

“You were _dying,_ Cas,” he hears Dean say, “I was ten steps ahead of you on the Monopoly board. I was planning funeral arrangements, drinking binges, blackouts, sad mixtapes—everything!”

_I gave up three times this week_

_Went through those feelings_

_Like I wasn't worth nothing_

There’s scuffling on the tile, like Cas is moving closer at an angry pace. “And you don’t think I was?”

“What?”

“You don’t think when Metatron told me you were dead that I was doing the same thing?” Cas bites back. “Planning every little detail? I was still human without my original grace. I felt powerless, weak, insignificant—a guy in a cardigan sweater made me his _bitch._ ”

Sam feels his chest deflate. Sure, he can’t relate down to the cardigan sweater, but there was a time when Sam felt that same way—his whole life, actually. Between his father, Jess, and everything between then and the apocalypse: that event was when he truly understood his worth, as crazy as it sounds. Because he could actually control the outcome of something. One word meant saving the world, so he said it.

Just like with Cas. One word meant changing the course of his and Dean’s relationship forever.

_I thought I-I-I-I-I-I can shake this off_

_No, I-I-I-I-I-I can't be this soft_

There’s a pregnant pause, then: “Cas, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you did, Dean. Just as I did.”

“Cas—”

“And frankly, I don’t care that you didn’t say anything back, because that was meant for _me. I_ chose to give my last dying breaths to you.”

“Cas—”

“And if you think you can change my mind about what I said because _you_ didn’t like it, then you can go screw a—”

“Cas!” Dean yells over Cas’s running diatribe. “Just… me too, okay?”

Sam nearly chokes.

_I'm fucked up, I'm faded_

_I'm so complicated_

_Those things that I said_

_They were so overrated_

“W… what?” Cas says, speaking for Sam.

“I’m pissed because everyone who’s ever said they remotely cared about me because it always backfires,” Dean says, exasperated. “Mom, Dad, Sammy—even _me,_ look how many times _I’ve_ died, and I’ve _never_ cared about myself! It’s a vicious circle that I didn’t want you to be a part of. And because I… because I love _you,_ I…”

“You don’t think you deserved to be… loved?” Cas responds, echoing what sounds like words from the past. Dean never did tell Sam about his first encounter with Castiel. Sam just figured it wasn’t very magical after he met Cas himself, given he was… well, a dick, at the time.

Dean doesn’t say anything, but Sam supposes he doesn’t need to when he hears Cas stepping even closer.

“Well, too bad,” Cas says, “because I’m not going anywhere, you sad son of a bitch.”

And then Cas closes the distance between he and Dean to plant one on him, and okay, yes, Sam knows that because he chances another glance, but he’s glad he is: Dean’s smiling into the kiss and pulling Cas deeper into his mouth and into his chest. Sam smiles, and not even Dean can ruin it for him when he pulls back slightly to say, “Alright, Sam, you perv, you’ve made your point.”

 

 

 

_But I-I-I-I-I-I, yeah, I meant it_

_Oh yeah, I-I-I-I-I-I, really fucking meant it_

 

 

 


End file.
